


Meetings

by Velasa



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Bosselot, Fifty Year Affair, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3830683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velasa/pseuds/Velasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times John and Adamska met and one time they didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> My first long MGS fic, written while listened to a shitload of things but mostly Em-One’s “How did it get this way (acoustic)”, Snow Patrol, and Bush. Thanks to Acequeenking for betaing the parts I let her read, once you finish the series you can have the ending and then we'll cry about it together.
> 
> No spoilers for MGS5 since this was written before it came out, and after much thought I have decided not to update it to make it 5 compliant.

 

They meet by chance in a bar somewhere in Eastern Europe in the 60s, working separate jobs for separate organizations. John knows instantly it's Adamska sitting alone at the end of the bar- the Russian hardly looks any different with his tight cropped hair and sour expression, spurs on his boots and the same red leather gloves, one holding a glass of something strong and the other set just above the handle of a revolver on his hip. He has to be 24 by now but barely looks out of his teens. Not one of the strangers shooting him looks has had the balls to say anything to him.

It's a stupid idea, of course. He knows just how deadly the kid is with those guns but John's feeling more himself than he has in a long time and gives into a playful urge to see if the cat's just as temperamental as he remembers. Adam doesn't hear him sneak up but he definitely hears the affected rural drawl over his shoulder. "Awful long way from Texas kid."

Fast as a whip Ocelot snaps around in his seat to bring a barrel to bear right in the center of the soldier's forehead and for a second there Adam's face is narrowed in a way that has a truly striking affect on those cool blue eyes.... Until he recognizes Snake at the end of his gun and they widen comically. The kid downright _stammers_ and whatever impressive thing he'd been meaning to say is lost as he blinks rapidly up at him. John can't help the grin that splits his face and seats himself on the next stool over. Ocelot seems to realize he's been had and flushes scarlet as he puts the gun away.

They sit together for what could be hours, trading native liquors and stories about how they've been doing and where they've been. John buys Adamska his first shot of whisky and the way the kid's face lights up when he's told this is what _cowboys_ drink does good things for his heart. Anyone else would have thought them old friends, and in a strange way it feels like they are. There's certainly something different about him, something else there in the kid's gaze as time goes on that John can't quite place. Ocelot grows distracted and fidgety and starts drinking too quickly. Something is bothering him but what? Maybe it's the liquor? Adam's never had some of this stuff before and maybe on top of the vodka it's making him sick.

"Really think you should lay off the shots for now, kid." John cautions and reaches to edge the bottle of vodka away from him. Adam counters by sliding it in the opposite direction and pouring himself another shot.

"...Seriously, Ocelot. If you want to keep talking we can do it somewhere else, we've both had enough to drink. Do you have a room?"

Snake was reaching around stealthily, trying to take the bottle again as he talks until Adam suddenly spit-takes half his vodka and catches the offending hand in a vice grip. He looks furious all of a sudden, but embarrassed too? The hand he has free gestures frustratedly in John's direction before he can manage to talk again

"Are you mocking me?"

".... Mocking you?" Why is he mad? It isn't the bottle- he can get another one of those if he really wants- it's something else? "Did I do something?"

"Yes! God _damn_ it John my- my room?? And you act like you don't-" and then he pauses, leaning in close to scrutinize John's face. Adam really does look angry after that, face flushing red. "You really don't.... _Fuck!_ You can track a man through the goddamn jungle like it's a lit street but you're really this oblivious?? I can't....." he trails off, sputtering, but before John can ask if he's ok Adam suddenly slams his fist on the bar. "Fine! You know what, **fine!** You want it clearer, just _fuck me damn it!_ Ever since the first time you pinned me under you I've _wanted_ you, wanted to touch and taste you- god _I want to suck your dick so bad_ -"

John doesn't have time to be think about any of that because he's acutely aware of the number of hostile eyes suddenly turning in their direction as far too many people in the one-room bar prove to understand Russian. The sexual revolution may be in full swing back home but not here. Jeers of disgust are thrown in their direction but Adamska ignores them, eyes only for him and a need burning so bright in those baby blues that it's startling. Not that he has long to linger on that either because someone in the crowd growls about "fucking American f****ts" and Ocelot jerks his arm up for a flawlessly executed headshot before John can realize what he's doing to stop him.

In the seven seconds of stunned silence it takes for all hell to break loose John grabs Adam by the arm and bolts the both of them out the door. It's enough time for a head start but not to escape the mob entirely and they get chased across the frozen countryside for the better part of an hour before they're in the clear. Drunk on liquor and high on adrenaline the men crash in a flophouse a few miles away: Adam buys the room alone, Snake slips in unseen while the proprietor isn't paying attention and they both sink against the wall to catch their breaths through shaky laughter. John turns his head to say something but sees his face and... stops. Adam's been staring at him all night but this is the first time he pays attention to it for what it is. There's something about the way the kid looks at him, like he's the only thing that matters in the world, and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't turn him on. The glove that grabs his shoulder is chilly from the outside air still but Adamska's breath is warm as he tugs John in to kiss him fiercely and that's more important.

The bed's too far and they end up fucking on the floor. Either the other rooms are empty or no one else feels like picking a fight tonight because no one gives them trouble when Adamska screams as he comes apart at the seams under his callused hands, his name echoing out in every gasp of breath as Adam rides him- _John,_ _fuck, wanted this so bad; John, wanted you so much; oh John oh fuck **JOHN** -_

There are dark bruises on Adamska's pale hips and bite marks and scratches all over John by the time they crawl to the shitty bed and collapse into sleep. The marks linger long after they part ways for their own lives in the light of day.

 

\---

 

They meet by arrangement in the 70s, trading intel and keeping in touch through various means but meeting in person was a rare indulgence. Adam is always in danger of being watched by his various masters and this is only the third time they'd seen each other since '72. This time's an abandoned house with a monsoon raging outside and they're safe here for the next five hours and no longer. _Work can wait this once_ John thinks as he breathes out raggedly, the crush of Adam's mouth aggressive as ever and pressing him into the wall. The rain muffles all sounds but their own and his legs wrap tighter around his loyal spy as they quickly get reacquainted. Only after that do they manage to finish stripping out of their drenched clothes and move to the bedroom.

Two years he's remained undercover in the Patriots, feeding Snake valuable information and risking his life with every contact. "Please," Adam laughs when John brings up his concern, "they'd have to catch me first to kill me, and they'll never catch me. Frankly I'm insulted you think little enough of my abilities to even consider it."

The smile on Adam's face says he's teasing but John apologizes anyway with a kiss touched to a smooth cheek. His lover nuzzles his face into John's throat, unbothered by the scruff that's been growing there since the last time he shaved. "Don’t worry. I won’t die until you don’t need me anymore."

And it _is_ good to see him again. Nine months without word had worn on John, shortened his temper, given him awful headaches. All the same as they lie together with the sweat of their bodies cooling in the dark John suspects that Adamska has arranged this closeness regardless of the risk.

They could stop meeting like this, he knows, if only for a time. Adam's on an extended mission for Mother Russia here in Venezuela and Cipher wouldn't be checking in on him for the next three months in order not to risk his cover with the Soviets. MSF could hire him out for jobs in that time; he was clever and more than capable and they would be close and John knew he would accept without hesitation. Something in his gut turns at the certainty he has on that point- there's nothing he could ask of Adam that the kid wouldn't do for him. He's heard _love_ in both Russian and English spill from Adamska's lips in moments of passion more than once, and knows the knot in his own chest when he hears it for what it is and that's precisely what terrifies him.

John is still deeply wounded from the last time he had let someone get too close, still wakes up some nights smelling lilies. Now her son is dozing in their bed with his head laid on the scar John carved into himself in memory of her. Adamska would die for him, and he remembers the Boss and is deeply afraid it will happen again. The warm August night no longer seems so, a cold sweat breaking out over his skin as he drags a hand down the scarred side of his face. They can't keep doing this. He needs to call it off before it's too late, go back to being professional, go back to something sane. But he finds his hand caught by long, slim fingers and looks down to see Adam fully awake and studying him with concern.

"Hey. Look at me. What's wrong."

"It's... nothing I just need to...." but he wavers and Adam knows him too well. His lover's eyes narrow just a touch, but not in anger. More to let him know he was on to him.

"Don't give me that shit John. Talk to me."

"I....." John pauses, feels the sweat drip down the hair on the back of his neck and the pounding stress in his head that fears their future. "I just want to forget right now Adam." he chokes out at last.

"So let me help you." Adamska says so softly as he draws himself up to be eye to eye. God he's beautiful. It's a horrible idea and John knows it, but so much of his life is dedicated to fighting the impossible anymore that he can't turn him away. When Adam kisses him, he kisses back with everything he has.

There is more passion in their movements than earlier that night and love burns in Adam's eyes as brightly as the inelegant flush on his face as John moves inside him, running rough fingers down that pale back and through blonde hair that's been growing out ever since the older man said he liked it like that.

It's precisely because John loves him that he doesn't bring him back to Columbia when he leaves in the night.

 

\---

 

They meet by fate in the 80s when Adamska comes riding in on a white horse to save his life. If he'd been remotely cognizant John would have laughed because god _damn_ it kid are you serious? Most of the details of the rescue are lost in the haze of drugs, pain, and fear, but he remembers that. It's only when he wakes up the next time that anything feels real again.

He doesn't recognize the coat wrapped around his shoulders or where he is, but it's an improvement over his last memories. There's a canteen and a tin of what looks like food set beside him that he goes for as soon as his head stops spinning when he tries to sit up. Something moves in the corner of the old soldier's monocular vision and he freezes, but it's Adam's voice that calls him "John" and the tension dissipates. He turns his head to see the kid and the words he'd been about to say die in his mouth.

It's definitely Adamska- who else would have shown up dressed to the nines like a goddamn cowboy out of nowhere to save his sorry ass? It had been him that chaotic night and it's him now, but the face he sees is as old as _John_ last remembers being and it takes a good ten seconds for him to accept it. It's one thing to be told nine years when you're high on painkillers and another to have the lost time staring you in the face.

Adam rises in silence from where he'd been cleaning a shotgun and sits down next to John. The peachfuzz is new, the battered soldier thinks to himself as his bandages are checked over carefully with a set of familiar red gloves; those at least look the same. And not even a full blown beard would hide those cheekbones. Trivial things to notice but the world was still putting itself together by inches. The details Adam gives him of what's been happening during his absence while he changes the dressings that had bled through help. The other man stays sitting next to him tending the campfire as he finishes the briefing. Neither speaks for some minutes afterwards. It seems they both need the time to think.

"I love you." Adam says in the same level tone he'd used to deliver all the other facts. He doesn't look away from the fire. "Don't worry about it affecting my loyalty if you don't return it- I'm your man for as long as I live regardless. But it's been 20 years and it's about time I said it when you can hear me."

John buys himself time by slowly eating the soft mashed thing in the can that must have been picked because it was inoffensive and wouldn't stress his guts. His throat is rough from disuse and thankfully Adam is right next to him because he doesn't think he could raise his voice if he wanted to "No. You've said it before."

"....I'm pretty sure you were in a coma at the time." Adam's confused, that's clear. He lets the cat squirm for a second more.

"Your eyes say it every time you look at me." Through the bandages, the scars, the burns, the unruly mess his facial hair has become, there is a softness to the words under all of it. Affection's never been his strong suite, even in the good days let alone after everything that's happened, but it's there. The years disappear from Adamska's face as he carefully pulls John close. John doesn't say anything else, and Adam doesn't ask him to. What he's willing to give is enough.

When they make it back to the survivors of MSF Adam stays. John knows better than to try to argue, the man's goddamn stubborn once he picks his course. Ten years ago he'd have been a good recruit and Ocelot has only gotten better at every aspect of his trade since then: the only things more deadly than his marksmanship are the webs he spins with his silver tongue. They needed a man like him in the Diamond Dogs. And in the privacy of his room after Adam has proven yet again that he's as good at giving head as he is lying, John tangles mismatched fingers tight enough in that long greying hair to pull strands of it out as they kiss and can't deny that _he_ needs him too.

They're soldiers; risk is a part of life and there comes a point when you have to accept that it could end at any time. Frankly it's a miracle they've survived _this_ long with the lives they've led... But knowing that doesn't stop the fear every time his lover goes off undercover alone. No matter how good at your job, how clever or well trained or prepared you are, one stray bullet can be enough.

John gives up on sleep shortly before dawn and sneaks across the room to start going over papers. Occasionally he stops to scrounge what little the coffee maker's gotten out or watch the long lean Russian sleeping nude in his bed. No one should look that good at 40. Wanton and content and shamelessly beautiful, and completely his. He starts the samovar he's taken to keeping next to the coffee machine at just the right time to make sure it will already be hot when Adamska wakes in the morning.

 

\---

 

They meet rarely in the 90s. Adam's continued cover in the Patriots is too valuable to risk for anything as small as a relationship with everything that's on the line. They're only meeting now because the intel he's bringing is too important and dangerous to send any other way. The last time had been back in '95 and that had been to save John's life, digging him out of the rubble of the hanger before he bled out or the airstrikes could bury him along with every other trace of Outer Heaven. Adamska had been panicked and furious and they'd fought bitterly as soon as John awoke.

" _Have you really lost that much of your mind??"_

_"The decision had already been made to send in a second operative. I thought I could keep on top of the situation-"_

_"By_ helping him _?? The fucking Metal Gear wasn't even active yet! You had an assault rifle and told him where to find ROCKETS!!" Adam looked on the verge of tearing his hair out standing there beside the bed while the medical staff skirted around him and gave the Russian nervous looks. "It's as if you_ wanted _him to -"_

 _It was when Ocelot went silent like that that you really needed to worry. His eyes turned to ice and the tone of his voice crushed down to nothing, little more than a hiss "You did. That's what this is about isn't it, it's about her. It's been 34 years John, get over it! She's dead! If you want to follow her_ that _badly you can skip the damn pretense and I'll send you there myself a lot quicker!!!"_

All hell had broken lose when Adam had drawn on him. The staff panicked, the guard froze and was still trying to figure out what to do when a second revolved came to bear in her direction and she ran, and John looked up past the barrel aimed at the center of his head to his partner's eyes. There was anger there, and fear, but there was hurt as well. Adam would have given up everything for him but to know that he'd nearly died so stupidly, chasing ghosts and forgetting the living that needed him....

John had enough presence of mind to apologize to Adamska for hurting him. The gun finally lowered and Adamska stormed off without another word just as the swat team was arriving. That had been three years ago and they'd barely had a personal conversation since. Frankly, John was worried he would still be mad at him. But Ocelot is perfectly professional when he arrives. Perhaps a bit too much for his liking, but it isn't a surprise. A lot has changed and neither of them is the man they used to be.

The meeting goes well; his generals and scientists present are thrilled with the smuggled specs and discuss the ramifications this could have on offensive capabilities excitedly. His people filter out in groups to make adjustments to their current projects or start new ones based on the new information until it's just the two of them left in the war room. Adamska hasn't moved from the back of the room since he came in, casually twirling one of his revolvers on a finger and staring ahead at the now blank projector screen. They haven't been alone together in years. And now that they are, John doesn't know what to say.

It's a good eighty seconds of elegant gunplay before the Colt comes to a stop and Adam's cool blue eyes finally settle on him. "Anything else on the schedule Boss?"

"Nothing at the moment. Why?"

Adam rises and slips his revolver back into its holster, long legs crossing the space between them in moments. A red glove grabs his chin and tilts John's head up for a searing kiss. "I want you naked in your office in five minutes." he purrs into his ear in Russian and god help him that's enough to turn him on. Adam saunters out of the room in no particular direction and John makes haste up to the office to leave instructions with his secretary that they aren't to be interrupted for anything short of an invasion and strips. The smug look of confidence on the cat's face as he walks in a minute later is everything he's been missing and more.

He's aged well, John thinks to himself as Adamska's wiry body pulls him close. The Russian looks as good in his 50s as he did in his 30s, golden hair gone white and sweeping down his shoulders. His eyes are just as bright, kisses just as fierce, hands just as deft in preparing his lover as they are handling his revolvers. It's not long at all before John finds himself bent down over his desk with Adam taking him roughly from behind.

They end up slumped on the floor together after far less time than either of them would have liked but they're not as young as they used to be. It's not as if this isn't pleasant in its own way. John sits with his back to the dark wood of his desk and Adam in his lap, the younger man's face in the crook of his throat while John runs his fingers through his hair. They talk quietly. Some is about work but the rest is teasing and affectionate and shared between kisses and all of the things he has missed so desperately since the old days. "Can you stay tonight?" John asks, knowing he can't but needing to ask all the same.

His partner draws back enough to meet his eye and it's only because John knows him so well that he sees the indecision that flickers there before he answers. "....yes."

Big Boss doesn't bother sneaking back to his room like a nervous teenager since the spurs would just give it away anyway. They hadn't slept in the same bed in.... years, and he wasn't about to waste time questioning his fortune. John draws his lover to the bed with sweet whispers and they fuck slow and lazy in the dark, Adam's long hair splayed out around his head on the pillows in the most beautiful way as he gasps and shudders and falls apart. A blessed few minutes they remain there tangled together to recover before washing off and laying back down on fresh sheets to sleep. When John wakes his partner's arms are still wound around his waist. "I love you." John confesses into the dark, and he feels those arms tighten by a few measures. It's barely an hour later that they're standing at the gate of the compound going their separate ways again.

.... Damn professionalism, and damn what the soldiers might think. John calls "Ocelot" and strides forward purposefully- Adam turns back and has just opened his mouth to ask what it is when John catches his chin and tilts his head down to kiss him hard. They linger like that for some time, paying no heed to their audience or the cold winter wind biting at them through the open door.

"Be careful." John says softly after he finally draws his face back. Adamska just smiles.

"As if I'm ever anything else."

 

\---

 

Adamska sits on the bank of the Volta and watches the smoke curl up into the night. Soon enough the game will have to begin again, but for now he can be himself and he isn't about to waste it. The cigar in his hand smells like shit but it tastes like John's lips so he takes another drag and thinks about what could have been.

He wouldn't be smoking this damn thing for one. They'd be retired somewhere far from here. The cold had never bothered the Russian but his partner had begun to chafe at the chill in Zanzibarland the last time they'd met- sixteen years ago? Has it really been that long? It feels longer sometimes. He remembers their last kiss like it was yesterday all the same. He should have stayed. Couldn't have, but should have. Staying as long as he did had nearly gotten him caught but he would never regret seeing John fall asleep in his arms that last time.

Old age had never stopped John from being as handsome as the day they'd met. If anything it had only been an improvement: the elegant white of his hair, the richness of his voice, the way his wrinkles pulled on his scars. The last was how he knew the shrink-wrapped thing they've stolen isn't him. Adam knew John's scars better than his own, had spent more time than he cared to admit tracing them, memorizing the way they felt under his fingertips and knowing that he'd been the one to put more than a few of them there: as a rival trying to show him up, as an ally patching him back together, as a lover in the throws of passion. They were signs of devotion more poignant than a ring could ever be. Solidus' sad looted corpse had none of that.

Besides, he knows where John is. Hasn't been able to get there himself but he's gradually replaced most of the staff with Otselotovaya Khvatka loyalists and while they can't break the Patriots' chains alone they have their instructions for when the time comes. Instead he's sent gifts: a explanation in a letter and his best set of revolvers. Ocelot's hands ache for the loss of them but it wasn't as if he could keep them for this blasted charade. John was a man who truly understood and loved guns, he would take care of them. And there was no way in hell he's ever letting his partner wake up unarmed again.

It isn't as if Adamska is going to be there this time. If things go as planned in the next hour the world won't be satisfied until it has his corpse cut open on a slab and he will _not_ put John at risk by leading them to him. Sacrifices have to be made and an old man past his prime who doesn't know how to let go is the least of them.

But there's not much time left. Eva and her young Snake are coming after all, and she's going to realize quickly that her Pyx won't be bringing anyone salvation. A shame he's had to keep her in the dark about so much of this. A shame he is going to have to kill her. Eva is the last friend he has left in the world but what has to be done has to be done. Neither of them matter; all that matters anymore is John. She would understand. Eva had loved him as much as Adamska does after all. And neither of them will ever see him again.

A heavy inhale and he holds his breath, feeling the smoke burn his lungs until he nearly chokes. There's no joy in the hoarse laughter that follows, burying his face in the hand he can still feel. _I love you_ John had said a lifetime ago, and he has never forgotten it. Adamska will never stop loving John; he will carry the memory of his kiss, his touch, his smile to the grave. "What would you think of me now, John." he asks the sky.

But the codec ringing in his ear tells him that they're nearly here and he's out of time. Before the night is out Adamska will sign his death warrant and nothing will be able to stop the fire that ensues from burning the old world to the ground. He reaches inside himself for the gate built with his father's legacy and his own ingenuity and dedication and unlocks it.

Revolver Ocelot closes his eyes. Liquid Ocelot opens them. Let the lie continue.

　

　

　

End

4/27/2015 12:20 AM


End file.
